


Even The Insane Feel Pain (Dusttale)

by ArlenaTheWriter



Series: Dust Angst [1]
Category: Dusttale (Alternate Universe), Dusttale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of genocide, Other, Regret, short but angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArlenaTheWriter/pseuds/ArlenaTheWriter
Summary: Just a little short thing I wrote in class





	Even The Insane Feel Pain (Dusttale)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little short thing I wrote in class

The long day of faking had pushed Dust to his limits. Faking he enjoyed the murders, faking he enjoyed the sound of their screams. What spectators didn’t realize, is that there was a price to being a murderer. Everytime you closed your eyes you had to see the blood you spilled. Every second of the day you would hear the screams and hear the pleas. Every voice of your victims haunted your mind until you couldn’t even remember what the word ‘silent’ meant. The only good thing about being a killer was that you got to be alone, and even that could hurt sometimes.

Dust just stared at the gray sky and blocked all the voices in his head. He just thought about the sky. He felt no pain or sorrow. He was just empty and apathetic. The day had sucked any life that was still in him. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t really want to be anywhere right now. The only place he truly longed for was to be home with his brother. To just be able to sit down on the couch next to him before the resets and the hostility. For both of them to ignore the blaring of the television, and just for them to talk. To be actual brothers again. Dust wanted to be able to truly smile, but there was nothing out there that could bring him to. He may pull an insane grin nowadays, but that wasn’t genuine.

He remembered when he had killed the flower. How they had accepted their death so quickly, and crumbled to dust with a smile. “You’ll regret it Sans. It’ll take a toll on you.” That was what Flowey had told him, and now Dust began to suddenly realize that the weed was right. The insanity was taking over him and he wanted to leave the world behind. To just Fall Down and crumble away. But his soul wouldn’t let him.

Dust clenched his fists in aggravation, not even realizing that tears were flowing from his eye sockets. Everything was so unfair. He had tried to save everyone, he honestly had. He never would have thought that anyone’s death would be permanent when he went genocidal. Now, here he was, forced to carry the weight of over 5,000 deaths on his shoulders. There was no person or thing that was there to comfort him, so he resorted to killing. The only thing that could bring him to feel emotions, even if it was hurt. He was driven by a sadomasochistic force that caused him to destroy because he that if he did, he would regret it afterward.

Dust looked down at the red marks on his arms. They had stung terribly, but that didn’t matter. The pain meant he could feel something. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. If he couldn’t Fall Down, he would at least fall asleep.


End file.
